As gravity dragged him down, Zayn remembered his mother’s warning. Regret piled inside his chest. Not because he’d not taken her advice seriously; he regretted the fact he failed.

  He swore he had it though—the perfect dive, the perfect flip, just like the Helldiver. But what was supposed to be the zenith of existence turned into a nightmare beyond his understanding.

  He still remembered the day he’d ridden a motorcycle for the first time. That day, he’d joked that he’d die cracking a bone or two. Maybe a couple jokes as well But what was funny about the skies being wrung like a cloth? Or falling for what felt like an eternity…

  

  

  

  None of that made any sense to him. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the eventual fall. But it never came. Instead, fragmented memories kept flickering in his mind, like worn-out pictures spilling out of an old, abandoned album.

  He grinned. Somewhere, he’d heard that the human brain replayed its best memories when death knocked at its door. But if these were his best memories, he had lived a shitty life.

  He came crashing down with a sickening crack that shattered his bones and ruptured his organs.

  

  A pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced before hit him as he fell on his back. All of his ribs broke and punctured his lungs. His spine snapped like a twig before a deep ringing replaced all sound. His vision turned deep red—the red of death.

  He had known. He had always known that driving would bring his end. But he didn’t want to die without an answer. So he held his breath, caging the oxygen inside his shredded lungs.

  Clinging onto a shred of his unravelling sanity.

  Desperate to survive one more moment.

  

  He needed to know—whatever this was all about.

  

  

  His spine snapped back into its place as a weird burning energy entered his body. That only increased his pain. All sensations slithered from his bones and muscles, ripping a sharp bite at his brain.

  They said once you reached past a certain threshold of pain, it blurred and could no longer be felt. How wrong they were. Zayn was submerged in an endless wave of pain. As if someone was continuously peeling the layers off his body, only to rejoin him back.

  After an eternity of pain and passing out from it and then returning to consciousness, he felt the world settle down. His muscles writhed like screaming ghosts as he forced them to let him stand. He heaved a painful, long breath, and pieces of rock rained down from his clothes.

  He stared down. Numerous smaller pebbles scattered across the ground, near the area he’d fallen on.

  Suddenly, words erupted in his vision.

  

  What was a rock golem? And somehow he’d fallen down nearly a thousand feet and crushed it, then lived to tell about it? What…He would’ve laughed if he didn’t know that it’d cause a fresh wave of pain.

  Whenever he walked past tall buildings and tall places, he feared someone would fall on his head and crush him to death. How ironic; he became the very thing he once feared.

  he hadn’t actually fallen down the entire way. After those weird voice announcements, he hadn’t felt the velocity increase as it should have. Instead, it was as if he was suspended for an infinitely long time before he fell down.

  Wary, he looked around. Despite the pale red haze still clouding his vision, he could make out the surroundings. Rays of a morning sun pierced through the towering trees, whose gnarled trunks spiralled skyward. Fresh wave of spring air pierced through his one unclogged nose.

  A scattered, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips. Had he gone mad? Or maybe the world did—because none of this made any sense.

  Moments ago, he was speeding up a rocky mountain in the middle of a moonlit night. Next moment, the stars cried, and the sun shone upon him again.

  Had he been kidnapped and drugged to hell by someone? Perhaps everything was a hallucination made up by his brain before his death? No matter what, the world he stood upon had changed irrevocably.

  He took a painful step, feeling a bit of squishiness still linger around his toes. In the corner of his eyes, a blue ball floated and churned like a living thing.

  As soon as he focused on it, it spread.

  

  Zayn Hussain King, Level - 4

  Race: Human (F)

  Class: None

  Affiliation: None

  Path: None

  He scoffed in disbelief. This was like the RPG games. The ones he’d seen his classmates play as a kid. He’d always stare at them in envy as they went to have their fun little game nights. At night, he’d lie awake, imagining himself as the dungeon master—playing his own games.

  When he’d gotten older and bought a console for himself, the passion for all that was long gone. Still, he knew the basics. He used to have cardboard boxes full of card sets.

  

  Right. He got titles—a bunch of them.

  

  

  Pausing, Zayn took a quick look at his stats below.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  “Fuck!” Zayn cursed. He might not be the greatest at math—but the added twelve in endurance meant he was only a couple inches away from death.

  He had been injured before, but things felt strange right now, like his body was being kept together by some kind of invisible force when it already should’ve collapsed. Thankfully, that same force allowed him to keep moving, even if he should’ve arguably been dead from the actual injuries he’d sustained.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  But even more infuriating than him being on the brink of death was his intelligence stat. He’d never considered himself a genius, but he was not that stupid.

  That's what this damn system was. Like every live-service game ever at launch.

  Before he could take another look, air whipped past his ears like a swift knife. A sharp crack of wood splitting rang out from behind. He did not have to turn around to check what attacked him.

  -

  

  

  It stood four feet tall, squat and broad, built like a jacked bodybuilder who’d never missed any leg days. With each step, dozens of small pebbles rained from its innumerable cracks, like dried farmland in summer.

  As soon as it raised its small, thick, and stubby arms, Zayn knew his time to observe was over.

  It was time to

  

  One of the stone shards sliced past his thighs, opening a gaping wound. He stumbled to the nearest tree, hiding behind it. His heart mirrored the loud, dull footsteps that were closing onto him—thrumming louder with each passing second.

  He jumped again, and the air swayed behind him once more.

  This was real. Or at least, to him, it was. Perhaps he had truly gone crazy, but right now he could feel that thing chasing him—feel the blood pumping in his heart and the burning sensations flowing through his body. It did not matter if this was all a hallucination; if he’d gone crazy, he may as well act it.

  But he wasn’t going to just roll over and die.

  His pulse overworked, drunk from the surge of adrenaline. He bounced from foot to foot amidst the cover of the trees. Only when he stumbled did he look down.

  Raka laid on the ground, torn and scattered into many small parts. Its blue tank was dented. The brakes scattered a few feet away, while the exhaust pipe was half buried into the ground, abandoned from the rest.

  “No… no no ” He rushed down onto his knees, whispering and rubbing its broken body. A pain rose at the back of his throat and crushed his heart, overpowering the pain of his body.

  The loud steps got closer, sending slices of rock past him—missing him as they struck a nearby tree.

  Numb, Zayn only stared at the broken remnant of Raka. Then pain turned into a burning river of rage. He put his hand inside the remains of his broken motorcycle, and with a pull-drawing strength he didn’t know he had in him, he tore Raka’s chains out.

  Gripping the chain in one hand and the fork in the other, he crept from tree to tree, rushing away from the stomping golem. Soon, the creature had lost his trail, roaring in frustration.

  He could run.

  The golem was slow and dull. And he did not believe that was going to be the strongest threat here—not by a long shot. If things really were like a game, then there would be other monsters. Stronger ones.

  Feeling the coldness of the fork, old instincts of his biker gang days reared up.

  . He wasn’t the kind who was good at running in the first place.

  Zayn picked up a pebble, throwing it behind the golem. It groaned and turned around. Finding nothing, it shot a rock in frustration. After repeating the process a few times, he discovered something.

  The golem was as dumb as a rock; it moved like a hungry zombie following the smell of flesh.

  With the pipe in his hand, he skulked behind it. Once he was close enough, the creature shot up to its feet; it turned its head one eighty degrees to look straight at Zayn, raising its stubby arm to attack.

  “Screw you!” Zayn spat, feeling his soul nearly leaving. But the adrenaline smiled at his fear. He slid down and slammed the fork at its knee—with every ounce of his strength.

  He braced for the rebound of steel against rock, but instead, the golems’ knee shattered with a satisfying crunch. It fell down with a roar, missing the attack.

  A rock shard streaked past him like an arrow.

  With a thundering heart, he shot up to his feet again. Intending to land the finishing blow. But the next attack was already at him. Pebbles—the size of fingers—pincered out of its torso, aiming for everything nearby.

  Despite his best effort to avoid, a few sharp projectiles cut through his flesh as they shot past like an exploding rock grenade.

  

  The world turned red yet again, but madness had already choked him. He drove the pipe down its rocky head, feeling the exhaustion set in as he hammered down again and again against the creature.

  

  

  He heaved deep breaths as an unfamiliar heat coursed through him again. The wobbly joints in his skeleton creaked and healed.

  “I win,” he whispered and laid down on his back—staring at the sky. Curiosity welled inside him. Just what had happened to his world? Had everything really become a game all of a sudden?

  Still, despite the terrible night, for some reason all he felt as his heart pounded in his chest was a strange feeling of wonder. He wanted to see more. To find out just what else was out there now.

  A message buzzed in his vision.

  

  A bored, almost sleepy voice droned. Zayn sat up and looked in surprise. Judging from the voice, he expected to see a lazy office bum. But an unusually tidy grey wolf with pointy ears sat behind the screen, rubbing his eyes like he’d just been woken up.

  He wore a royal golden robe, and a diagonal scar grizzled his face. Despite that, the rimmed glasses he just put on added a touch of refined grace to his aura of nonchalance.

  

  Borus yawned as he explained, wiping his glasses with his robe. After that, his stare turned sharp like a sword, causing a chill to rise in Zayn’s spine.

  

  With a flash of his hand, an image of Earth flashed in front of him. Zayn gaped, watching all the buildings and architecture fall as the sea churned and rose—swallowing it all. He shook his head in disbelief.

  All of the progress humanity had made in the past thousands of years meant nothing in that moment. An unfeeling power had ripped it all apart in an instant, returning mankind to the primal.

  Just like that.

  But why did this display feel so oddly familiar?

  

  Images of seven planets floated in front of Borus, who’d been turning more energetic with each line he spat. Zayn only recognized Earth. As soon as Borus zoomed onto the first planet, the feeling of familiarity clicked.

  

  He lampooned as Borus gave a brief description of the planets, alongside a cutshot of each major intelligent species right before the integration. A small planet with hairy bipedals was the first, seemingly just stepping into the age of industrialization.

  The next planet had a single, titanic tree sticking out of its surface—like a gigantic arm. Upon it, elves, goblins, orcs, and other monster races knelt side by side—prostrating towards the sky with devotion in their eyes.

  “Planet of the apes! Lore-inaccurate Lord of the Rings! What’s next? Transformers? The freaking Imperium of men??”

  Hearing muffled noises from nearby, Zayn cursed, quickly hiding himself among the trees. He didn’t want to get skewered by one of these bodybuilder golems while he was listening to a crazy wolf talk.

  His brain raced for answers.

  Why were all the elves, orcs, and others kneeling? Who were they kneeling to? To the system? To some God of the multiverse?

  The Third Planet hosted a race of two legged, angry lizards who seemed to wear suits, just like humans. They stared up at the sky in unparalleled anger—akin to someone who’d been woken at three in the night.

  Humans were fourth, looking like the introvert at parties—confused and terribly out of place. Zayn saw the presentation with mild interest, but it was everything he already knew.

  Next were blue-skinned giants—who breathed out fog—who wore what looked a lot like power armor and populated the flying sci-fi-looking cities of the fifth planet, which seemed to have no atmosphere and resembled a moon more than a planet.

  . Zayn joked to himself, now numb to the absurdity. Already, he knew these people weren’t going to look each other in the eye. He hoped the last two were more normal—at least more like the first one.

  The last two planets had centaurs with spider legs and giant fuzzballs that squirmed like worms. Pursing his lips, he quickly cut both off from his list of potential allies.

  Yet, his heart drummed as if preparing for war. He had spent years as a child—daydreaming about dragons and monsters of myths—searching for evidence. Desperate to prove that they were all real.

  He had burnt his dreams later, submerging to the throes of reality.

  But this…this was not a dream. This was as real as the blood raging through his veins. Or he had gone completely mad.

  

  Zayn paused, his mouth stuck between smile and annoyance. Of course, he was one of those people that hadn’t been evacuated.

  

  

  In terms of titles, he should be ahead of the curve. He had a few, and one legacy title at that. Surely that had to count for something? He hoped he’d get some decent class choices.

  —

  Zayn froze like a headless chicken, his mind racing. Was he being right now?

  

  Engrossed in his imaginary scenarios, he didn’t notice that a stone golem had clambered nearly all the way towards him, staring right at him. Frozen, he stared back at it.

  The two just looked at each other for a while. Then it raised its arm.

  “Shit,” he cursed, ducking. The stone shard grazed past his forearm, scraping it—cutting almost a centimeter deep.

  

  Zayn stood up, ignoring the pain. This murderhobo golem had attacked without a shred of hesitation. As if that’s all the instinct it had. He smiled.

  After dealing with all the fake smiles his entire life, he felt refreshed at the change.

  Clutching on the cold fork, he prepared himself. Heart drumming; muscles tout. A grin slowly stretched on his face as he shot forward.

  Since the multiverse was watching, he might as well put on .